


Romance Through Language

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a habit of muttering in French from time to time, and as Molly gets to know him more she finds this to be an important part of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance Through Language

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a headcanon that Sherlock knows multiple languages, but French is one that, for some reason, he speaks better than most and will default to (at least up until his fall...after that, Russian is his go-to language). Now, this was originally inspired by a prompt but veered so far away from it that I'm not including it, but I will state that this answered an old prompt I did for the Livejournal community **sherlockmas** that was _Molly; triumphant_. Anyway, it's not very graphic but it's suggestive, hence the Teen rating. Also, all of the French came from Google Translate, so mistakes are the websites.

She didn’t know much about Sherlock before she met him, other than he was a genius, most people didn’t like him, and he was supposed to be as cold as ice. That made her quite nervous, but she squashed it down as she gave him the autopsy results. He stood there, looking at her with his piercing gaze, his eyes as cold as turquoise stones, and then he began to examine the body on his own. She backed away slowly, but as she said one final bit of observation she heard him mutter “Cela est tout à fait judicieux” under his breath. She blinked. No one mentioned he was French, or knew French. That was quite peculiar. But as the words rolled off his tongue, as the sound rang in her ears, soft velvet on her brain, she knew she wanted to hear him say more to her in French.

**\--**

He didn’t do it again for months. She’d make observations, try and be witty or clever, but get a short remark in English. She’d make an observation, but be met with dead silence or a slight indelicate snort. She was trying too hard, she knew that, but the sound of his voice forming words in French had been perfection, utter perfection. She _had_ to hear it again.

It came unexpectedly. It was a rather challenging autopsy, and the cause of death had almost passed her by, but she’d figured it out in the end, and she presented it to him with a touch of modesty. He blinked, as though it hadn’t occurred to him, and then nodded, saying “Cela est très impressionnant,” more to himself than her. Her grasp of French was rudimentary, but it _seemed_ he was impressed, and she walked on air for the rest of the day.

**\--**

While she waited for another moment she studied. She brushed up on her French, swapping out pop music for language lessons, and as her grasp of the beautiful language grew she realized Sherlock muttered the language all the time, much more than she realized. The soft utterances, the ones she only caught bits off, tended to be French. There were rustic curses and elegant swears when he was frustrated but restrained. And once she caught him counting to ten to keep from losing his temper.

She thought to ask him why French, why not Spanish or Latin or any other language he might know, but they weren’t friendly enough for personal questions. Weren’t close enough. So she kept it to herself, kept listening to him and the bits and pieces of French that bubbled forth, and let them wash over her ears and take residence in her brain and heart.

**\--**

The first time he said something she understood completely she had to stop herself from thanking him, for fear he would stop uttering those beautiful words around her. She had given him a very thorough and detailed autopsy report, done every conceivable test she could think of, and done it all without him having to ask. She had, in essence, done most of his work for him, as there was a timed element to this case.

He had leaned over the body, examining the injection mark where the poison was administered, and said softly “Vous êtes certainement très compétent dans votre domaine d'expertise.” She had to be careful not to beam, not to show the extreme happiness she felt at the compliment, but as soon as he left her morgue she let the wide smile bloom on her face and the words carved themselves on her heart, etched there forever.

**\--**

Things changed when John arrived. There was less mutterings in French when John was there, because Sherlock tried to impress John, and when he spoke French John would ask what he said and he’d shake his head and say it in English. Soon he stopped altogether, much to her dismay. She missed the days that he would say things in that beautiful language, even if she had to pretend she didn’t understand them.

He said one thing, once, clearly and out loud. Lestrade was reading the tattoo on her victim’s wrist, written in French, and he was mangling it horribly. She started to say it but Sherlock swept in, saying “Je pense qu'il n'y a rien de plus attrayant que une femme intelligente” and finishing as she did. He stared at her for a moment, as if not believing what he heard, and then the moment passed, all too soon.

**\--**

When he fell off the roof and left, he would send her the occasional postcard. She knew they were from him not just because of the lack of return address or the coded messages or painstakingly disguised handwriting but because they were written in French. Her reading skills of the language were not as good as her speaking skills, but she got the gist of each message.

_I miss you._

_I miss John and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson._

_There is still work to do._

_I will do my best to stay alive._

_Stay strong for me._

She kept all of the postcards, even when she began seeing Tom. He wondered at her French pen pal and she gave him an elaborate fiction, but the truth was these were the ties that bound her to Sherlock, that kept him alive in her heart, and she would never rid herself of them.

**\--**

On occasion, when he returned, when they were alone, words and phrases in French would pass between them. Just bits and pieces, just when they were alone. After her engagement ended, after the fiasco at Christmas, after Moriarty’s message broadcast nationwide, he came to the hospital and stayed there, keeping an eye on her. When her shift was over he accompanied her home, saying he would give her space.

She did not want space.

She wanted him.

She moved closer, her body just touching his, and whispered “Prends moi maintenant.” He looked down at her for just a moment before capturing her mouth in his. As clothing began to be shed he whispered “Mon Dieu, tu es exquise” against every inch of her skin as he could, and when they finally came together and she moaned his name as she came she understood why it was the language of romance.

**\--**

The morning after, curled up in sheets, tangled up in each other, with him stroking her hair back, she smiled lazily at him before leaning forward and kissing his nose. “Bonjour,” she said.

“Bonjour,” he replied before giving her an indulgent kiss. “Je suis incroyablement attiré pour vous maintenant.”

So. They were going to keep speaking in French, she thought with a smile. She could get behind this. She ran a finger down his cheek. “Je tiens à faire beaucoup de choses pour vous, dont la plupart sont mieux de ne pas décrite en bonne compagnie,” she said.

He grinned at her. “Et quelles sont certaines de ces choses?” he asked.

She pushed at his chest so that he was on his back and she was hovering over him. “Je tiens à vous rouler jusqu'à ce que je ne peux pas marcher droit, pour un début,” she said before kissing him, a kiss he returned eagerly. This, she decided, was going to be the start of one very interesting relationship.

**Author's Note:**

> **TRANSLATIONS:**
> 
>  
> 
>  **Cela est tout à fait judicieux. -** _That’s quite astute._  
>  **Cela est très impressionnant. -** _That’s very impressive._  
>  **Vous êtes certainement très compétent dans votre domaine d'expertise. -** _You are certainly very knowledgeable in your area of expertise._  
>  **Je pense qu'il n'y a rien de plus attrayant que une femme intelligente. -** _I think there is nothing more attractive than an intelligent woman._  
>  **Prends moi maintenant. -** _Take me now._  
>  **Mon Dieu, tu es exquise. -** _My God, you're exquisite._  
>  **Bonjour -** _Good morning_  
>  **Je suis incroyablement attiré pour vous maintenant. -** _I am incredibly attracted to you right now._  
>  **Je tiens à faire beaucoup de choses pour vous, dont la plupart sont mieux de ne pas décrite en bonne compagnie. -** _I would like to do many things to you, most of which are best not described in polite company._  
>  **Et quelles sont certaines de ces choses? -** _And just what are some of those things?_  
>  **Je tiens à vous rouler jusqu'à ce que je ne peux pas marcher droit, pour un début. -** _I want to ride you until I can't walk straight, for a start._


End file.
